South American Adventure!
by Bururu
Summary: With Romano in tow, Spain arrives in the New World, positively ecstatic with the thought of the rich new lands that lie in South America. However, they soon run into a native, part of the Aztec civilization. Are they truly ready for what lies in the New World? In the second adventure with the Incas, they discover a "tomato", whatever that is.
1. Aztecs and Cultural Diversity

**A/N: I'm sorry, I'm a terrible person, going off and writing more Maturing With Music un-related stuff… **

**A cute little oneshot… I think.**

**Key: (NOTE: This key doesn't hold true to all my stories, just this one)**

"Tomato" – **Spanish (Well what else would they be speaking? But I wrote everything out in English because I don't know Spanish. But they're technically talking in Spanish.)**

"_Tomato" _– **Until the statement "Who are you?" it emphasizes words. But after "Who are you?" It symbolizes a universal language used by the nations that I like to believe is used.**

**If you didn't know, Mexica is what the Aztecs referred to their nation as. They didn't call themselves the Aztecs, the internet told me! No, it was from some .edu thing and my teachers have told us they're reliable.**

**Just found the Nordics' character song. :3**

**I just found out that on September 26th (next week!) two new songs will be released. One for the Bad Touch Trio, the other for the Baltics. **

**I'm so happy~!**

* * *

Spain took in a deep whiff of the wind, the crisp air dampened by the white seawater spray, sweetened and tart with blooms of plants unknown and salt dancing lightly but noticeably on the highlights of the odd but refreshing mixture of scents.

He exhaled strongly, a gentle, soft smile upon his baby pink lips seeming to have arisen to his face naturally. "Romano, aren't you excited? _This _is the New World, full of wonder and joy and-" However, his speech was soon interrupted by a distasteful, repulsive retching noise from his left.

"_Romano! _Are you_ puking _on my_ boat?!"_

* * *

Giddy with overwhelming excitement, the Spanish nation practically skipped off the boat much like a child who's just eaten sweets does. And what reason was there _not _to be excited? These new lands, just by a quick look, promised to bring endless wealth, additional territory, and all sorts of new products for his country- skins, produce, jewelry: you name it, the New World was full of promises and bountiful fortune.

Even Romano with his usually sour attitude seemed to contain the same anticipation his friend had, his petite body holding a similar air of a more nervous wonder. His hands came every so often to meet in front of him, wringing his wrists for a few unsettled moments before a swell of pride hit him and he quickly jerked them back to his sides. His ochre eyes darted this way and that with no air of grace but rather with the gleam of distrust.

"Romano, this'll be wonderful! Look! Look! Rainforest! Let's go in!" The Spaniard squeaked in utter ecstasy, flipping his head from the entrance to the rainforest from the rocky coast where his men were unloading horses and the necessary supplies. He called across the shore to them, barking orders to hurry it up.

The Italian nodded warily. "'Sure, whatever," he snapped, irritated. "Tomato bastard." He added sharply. He, too, was eager to see what the New World could offer down south. However, unlike his guardian whose sight was slighted by exuberant, joyous excitement, Romano was quick to acknowledge other factors as well in his pessimistic little mind- dangerous, unknown creatures, the risk of hunger or dehydration, and even the threat of possible indigenous people, quick to slay or capture newcomers.

Soon enough, their exploration party was ready to go. Spain happily led them, sometimes having to be called back because he ventured too far from the group. Sometimes he rushed back with some new flower or other plant or creature. Romano would usually shoot back Spain's exclamations of "Look! Isn't so amazing?" with "Don't get poisoned, bullfighting dumbass!"

"Damn it Spain, I'm tired and hungry and we've been walking for _fifteen hours _already!" Romano, whining and screeching in fury at the same time, threw up his arms in utter frustration. "Haven't you found enough? Let's just set up camp already!"

"Roma, you've been riding on my pinta for the past five hours." Spain cheerfully commented.

"They obviously haven't." Romano deadpanned, gesturing an arm towards the other men on their expedition. One was swaying from side to side, his eyes in a dazed state, the other tripping over his own two feet every few seconds, with another one panting heavily but still managing to unsteadily remain on his feet- no, wait, he just fell on the rainforest's damp floors. Spain cocked his head to the side in a confused state. "Weren't we traveling with four workers?"

Romano shook his head. "No, he passed out a while back."

* * *

After insistence for ten more minutes on a break, Spain finally gave up his end of the argument. "Fine, we'll stop for now." He grumbled, put out by the halt in his fun.

"Finally, damn stupid tomato basta-" Spain shoved his calloused hand roughly over Romano's mouth immediately. He shook his head silently at his Italian companion before jerking his head towards the distance. Romano struggled to see anything flawed but couldn't- just green trees, brown bark and soil and overflowing greenery. An unnatural disturbance of the leaves stiffened his body instinctively. A flash of tanned skin stood out against a large, vermillion green leaf. Spain began to reach for his glistening rapier.

An unsettling silence draped over the atmosphere heavily, the other men already sunken deep into slumber. Emerald eyes darted from every corner, every nook and cranny of the surrounding area.

A pounding clang of stone against metal cried out into the forest air. A young, tan man scowling at Spain held his weapon, made of wood with sharp flint around the edges, against Spain's cold, gleaming rapier. He growled something out in an alien language before lashing out again. Spain deflected the weapon, and with his unnatural strength of the Spanish Empire, pinned the man against the nearest tree with a passionate fire in his eyes.

He stared down at the man before speaking in a low, controlled tone. _"Who are you?"_

The man jerked and struggled like an animal against his hold before settling down and glaring back with his dirt color eyes, grounding out a bitter reply.

"_I am Mexica."_

* * *

After an hour of inquiry and reluctant answers as well as three startled work hands, Spain seemed satisfied with what they had gotten out of the man.

He took Romano aside afterwards, cautioning the men before leaving the foreigner in their custody for the time being. "Romano, you have to listen to me. Don't go near that man. He is dangerous." The Italian, in turn, emitted a noise of disapproval. "Tch, he is only human. My side of the country isn't _that _weak, you know. He's probably just-"

"You listen to me!" Spain snapped angrily, a stern glare taking over his features. He gripped Romano's shoulders firmly as he forced his younger comrade to face him. "That man is not human. From what I've gathered, his name is Mexica and he is the nation of the most powerful empire that lives here. You be careful for now. We should meet his people too before deciding upon welcoming him with open arms or not."

"He's one of _us?_" the other brunette whispered in shock. "Yes, we should meet his people. He has agreed to let us come to _Tenochtitlán_, the capital."

"You're salivating. Again." Romano deadpanned bitterly.

"Huh? Oh, sorry," Spain laughed, his voice giving out a slightly embarrassed air. He couldn't help it, this city just _screamed _new riches. And the people didn't look very hard to conquer either, although some of their weaponry looked quite intriguing, it still didn't match up to Spanish armor, guns, and cannons.

Gazing about the place with a look of boredom, Romano sighed. _I suppose it won't be long until this place becomes Spanish territory… I know that look in his eyes. _Spotting something that piqued his interest, he tugged on the fellow brunette's shirt. "Hey dumb Spaniard, what's with the big crowd over there?"

"What?" Spain looked over to see that, yes, indeed, a considerably large crowd of the natives was gathering around a massive stone building, something reminiscent of a pyramid. There was a man ascending the extremely lengthy stairs to the top, dressed in a noble's clothing accompanied by a few other natives.

"Oh, I wonder what they're doing." Spain replied cheerfully. "_Is this a public spectacle?_" he inquired to Mexica, who had been acting as their begrudging guide through the streets of the capital. Strangely enough, he seemed to perk up at the scene. "_Oh yes," _he replied. _"This is quite regular. We go through this just about every day."_

Spain nodded with an exuberant grin on his face. _"This is a very nice culture you have." _

Raising his head up a bit higher, Mexica seemed to be quite pleased with this and replied with a proud "_Thank you."_

Romano tugged on Spain's muddy brown leather vest, holding out his arms once the Spaniard turned his head down to look at him. "There are too many damn people here, so pick me up already you bastard." Scooping up the child in his large, warm embrace, he then positioned Romano to sit on his shoulders, right behind his head. The Italian put his small hands gently on either side of his companion's forehead.

They both looked up, Spain with a sunny but soft smile on his visage while Romano, yet again, had the absence of a smile on his face. However, he did seem to have a quietly contented expression on his face. Romano leaned in a bit to rest his chin on the top of the Spaniard's head, seeming to be internally struggling before whispering out, "Thanks Spain."

"You're welcome Roma," Spain sang happily. They were quiet then, enjoying the moment, at peace and just content with each other; all thoughts of new colonies were gone.

This soon ended, however, when one of the men up top began to struggle very violently as the others held him down. "_Wait- what are they doing?"_ Spain asked Mexica frantically. "_What they do every day. Don't people in your land do this as well? It is to give the sun the strength to rise the next day." _The indigenous man answered back.

The finely man dressed at the top – a priest, Mexica had pointed out before- raised a knife. "Wait-wait! What? What is this?" Spain cried out, panic rising in every syllable as he reverted to his own native tongue. Romano, realizing what they were about to do, began to root them on. "Yeah! Nail him right in the chest! And twist it once it's in there too!"

Spain paused from his current activity of whipping his head back and forth like a maniac to glare up at the young boy. "Roma!" he hissed up at him.

The boy just turned his head to the side. "Sorry," he mumbled sourly.

The priest plunged the knife in the man's lower torso, around his stomach area, and stuck his arm in and began to reach up inside the man's chest and it looked like up his ribcage.

"Oh dios mio," Spain muttered, shutting his eyes and turning his head down and covering Romano's eyes, eliciting a cry of complaint from the Italian.

Mexica was observing the event happily, watching the priest retract his arm with a red, beating heart. He turned his head to look at his two guests, confused. _Doesn't everybody do this? Huh, I thought so… _


	2. Inca Tomato?

**A/N: Yes, something that's actually in South America this time. I found out that South and Middle America is where tomatoes first came from, and that nobody in Europe knew what a tomato was before the Spanish discovered more of the New World. Hetalia is not owned by me, and I believe we should all know that by now. If you don't, I'm kind of worried for you.**

**Tawantinsuya is what the Incas referred to their empire as. It means "Land of the Four Corners", for they believed they had conquered all four corners of the world. **

**Pura vida, to do ésta bien~**

* * *

"Spain. Spain. Spain. SpainSpainSpainSpainSpain SpainSpainSpainSpainSpain SpainSpainSpainSpainSpain."

Antonio peeked his head up from where he was snoring away, which, this time, was in his meal of corn, fish, and potatoes. "Ah…? Oh… Lovi… Hiiiii….." he smiled droopily. Romano dealt him a swift smack on his little brunette head almost immediately. "Think about where you are, dumbass."

"What?" Letting his eyes wander about the room, they widened as he saw who was here with him. Around the table sat Francisco Pizarro, Atahualpa, Tawantinsuya, and a few other Inca officials and Spanish men. Oh yes. Dinner. With a bunch of important people.

"Eheheheheh….." he giggled awkwardly, his voice rising in pitch until it could not possibly be defended as anything else but a squeak. Very impressive of the most powerful empire in the world.

"Sorry." He smiled apologetically but appeared to be in hysterics inside, twitching as if he was having a spasm attack, grinning like a madman, and to top it all off, giggling nervously.

Pizarro shot him a stern look, and Spain flinched involuntarily at the steely gaze; conquistadors as powerful as him were like bosses to him, after the Royals and the Church. Atahualpa looked strangely at him; wondering if this was common among "sun warriors." The others just shrugged it off and resumed their meal. Tawantinsuyu nudged him quietly, causing Antonio to turn his head at him. _"They're going to bring out another dish soon; would you like to skip out on it? Are you full?" _

_"No, not at all. Just…"_ he paused for a minute before continuing. _"Tired, from all these expeditions. There are many things weighing on my mind; I have already grown so much that my body is torn up with scars already. I am troubled with endless problems and concerns and they keep me up, sleepless, every night."_ He sighed.

Tawantinsuyu nodded._ "I understand. I have conquered all four corners of the world, I am large and divided and know as much pains as you do." _Spain let a grin spread across his face. _No, you don't. _"_Thank you." _

A few native servants came in and brought out a dish, seeming to be a mixture of vegetables. One of them put it down on the table, and as he turned away, he seemed to drop something he was holding in his hand as well. It rolled on the floor, bumping gently into Spain's leather boot. Antonio reached down from his seat, picking it up and examining the foreign food. "I've never seen this before. It's red. Oh my God, is it poisoned?!" he shrieked, dropping the object. Tawantinsuyu picked it up from it's returned spot on the floor.

_"Of course not, it's called a tomato." _He explained to the foreigner. "_T-tomato? What is that?" _Antonio interrogated suspiciously, edging away from the alien food. _"It's actually quite delicious, would you like to try?" _Tawantinsuya asked innocently, holding out the red fruit to him. Spain glanced up and down, at the unknown food article, then at the native nation, then back. "_Alright…" _With that, he took the food from him, grasping it steadily in his hands. Pizarro and a few other Spanish men stiffened; if this was an attack planned by the natives to try and take their country out with poisoned food, they would not hesitate to cut them down immediately.

"Nooooo!" Antonio froze, the hand making its way towards his mouth halted, the red skin of the tomato brushing up gently against his soft, lush lips. A wailing could be heard from his side, and not a second later he felt a small body crash into his back, little hands coming around his sides to grip his chest in a bone crushing jump-hug. Romano sobbed into his shoulder, screaming in his ears at the same time. "IF YOU EAT THAT AND DIE -AND I KNOW THAT YOU WILL BECAUSE YOU'RE A STUPID BASTARD- I'M NEVER GONNA FORGIVE MYSELF AND THEN I'LL HAVE ALL THAT REGRET IN ME AND IT'LL BE ALL YOUR DAMN FAULT AND I'M NOT GONNA LET YOU FORCE ME ONTO THAT GUILT TRIP YOU INSENSITIVE JERK!"

"Lovi… you mean… you'd actually miss me if I died?" Spain spoke, almost disbelievingly. True, he was a nation and couldn't die. But it would still suck if he got poisoned; every time a nation got "killed" they, as individuals, would be weak as well as constantly ill for the next year or so.

"Of course I would you damn bastard! I wouldn't get to see you smile or anything like that for over a year and I can 't take that! And- oh. Um," he paused, blushing bashfully as he realized what the words coming out of his mouth were. "And…. And I'd have to explain to a crying Veneciano and I don't wanna have to take responsibility for your damn stupid actions. AND THAT'S ALL. NOTHING ELSE. Bastard." He finished, trying to excuse his previous words.

"Oh Roma, you're so cute. But I'm eating it anyways." Spain ruffled his companion's hair into a bit of a disheveled mess, to which Romano hissed at him. "Whatever," he snapped bitterly. "Don't listen to me."

Antonio nodded cheerfully at him, took a lasting glance at the fruit, before thrusting part of it in his mouth and chomping down on it. His eyes widened in absolute shock, and his body seemed to jolt, as if with electricity. His eyes then took on a relaxed, trance-induced stare, and he swallowed after two whole minutes of just chewing. He had to sit down- he crashed down into a chair, gripping the edge of the wooden table for support, quivering all over.

"OHMYGODYOUAREDYINGNOOOOOOO!" Romano screeched, tears pouring down his face. Pizarro and his men bolted from their seats, their swords at the natives' necks before they could speak.

"Roma…" Spain whispered hoarsely. "Y-yes?" Lovino answered, his pink bottom lip trembling in a hectic, disorderly rhythm with the salty tears that dripped down his cheeks.

"Roma… this…. This is… the most beautiful thing in the world…" his voice shook with awe.

Pizarro and his men released their holds on the Incas and looked at them with a hint of apology. Lovino glared at his friend with high levels of irritation surrounding him.

"Why do have to be so weird, huh? Going and scaring the crapola out of us like that! You and your stupid obsessions." He started off with. Spain just continued to gaze blankly into space; he looked like he was on drugs. He still was in amazement, and he began to smile blissfully as he shook with happiness.

"It can't be that good, bastard. No. That's what I should call you. The 'tomato bastard.' There. That's the perfect name for you. Why are you smiling like that? And you're shaking too- are you _crying?" _


End file.
